Hale's Coffee House
by delicate-matters
Summary: The review of Hale's Coffee House was incredibly positive: "Quite, Calm and Relaxing. The home-y atmosphere makes it perfect for family's and their coffee is no less than amazing". The scene Scott saw before him made him swear to never trust the internet again.
1. Welcome to Hales Coffee House

The review of Hale's Coffee House was incredibly positive: "Quite, Calm and Relaxing. The home-y atmosphere makes it perfect for family's and their coffee is no less than amazing".

The scene Scott saw before him made him swear to never trust the internet again.

Stiles(the best friend with the horrifying summer job recommended by Scott- Holy Shit Stiles was going to kill him) was being shoved against the wall behind the counter, smashing jars of sugar and flavored powders as they fell from the shelves above, by a completely drenched (in coffee) greek god, no seriously, it looked like the guy would rip the shirt he was currently wearing if he flexed. Stiles was somehow managing to flail despite being almost entirely pinned to the wall screaming "How was I supposed to know not to press setting three?" whilst the guy practically growled and only pulled him closer to shove him harder back into the wall.

Over by one of the tables there were a couple wrestling- no, not wrestling… Scott's averts his eyes as he realizes the blonde and massive dark skinned guy are basically dry humping whilst in the middle of a _violent _make out session.

"I'm sorry I forgot to call"

"It's okay, you can make up for it now"

SMASH- a couple of chairs fall over

Scott desperately looks over to the other side of the café where he sees an incredibly built, chiseled jawed guy standing on a chair looking in desperation at a fierce looking red haired, also standing on a chair, who is throwing cutlery at the floor.

"Kill it Lydia, don't let the damn bug live" the girlish plea that comes from the man almost makes Scott laugh, **almost**, if it weren't for the three knives the redhead hurls at the floor, one only just missing Scotts foot, as she lets out the most fearsome battle cry, which almost makes Scott yelp,**almost**, if it weren't for the… well, adorable guy standing behind the till with the curliest golden hair ever, looking like a lost puppy amidst all the screaming and shattering of jars and plates (Stiles was now being shoved into the plate cabinet).

"errr, can I take your order?" the absolutely innocent looking and incredibly attractive "model", because if he has a face like that he should be doing perfume ads or watch ads or underwear ads…

Pulling his mind out of the gutter and snapping his eyes back up Scott stammered back:

"Well I kind of came too see.." Quick glance at Stiles who was literally nose to nose with the greek god (yet still managing to swing his arms about wildly). Scott recognized that look, it was the look Stiles gave before he was about to argue hours upon end with you until you gave in due to exhaustion and probably a headache. With a small sigh he finished: "actually" SMASH- a table toppled over "I'll just have a" The redhead bellowed as a cup went flying past Scotts ear. "you know what I'm gonna pass, I'll come back later or maybe never who knows" ignoring the gorgeous boy's confused look he fled, dodging flying cutlery and falling furniture as he went. If he died, he was going to make sure his mother sued that review site.

As he stepped outside he looked back only to see that the chaos was worsening, yet comically the golden haired model was making coffee for a couple of people who had just sat down at one of the still standing tables.

And that was when he saw him, a middle aged man dressed like he has come from the Milan fashion week, staring straight into his soul. Scott turns and bolts it all the way home.

The internet had said, "Quite, Calm and Relaxing. The home-y atmosphere makes it perfect for family's and their coffee is no less than amazing". Scott only had one word for the author of that review:

**BULLSHIT.**

He was never going to step foot in that coffee shop again, **ever.** (Sorry Stiles.)

* * *

It was about 10pm that night when stiles called, Scott considered ignoring the phone call in an attempt to prolong his life for a few more hours but his best friend loyalty kicked in.

"Duddee how come u didn't come to see me on my first day of work?!" Stiles practically whined over the phone.

"I kinda did, but you were… errrr….busy?"

"Oh good… SO YOU TOTALLY ALREADY KNOW WHY I AM GOING TO DRAG YOUR "STILES THIS JOB LOOKS FUN" BUTT OUT TO THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS TONIGHT AND MURDER YOU VIOLENTLY" Stiles screamed so hard down the phone, Scott had to hold it at an arms distance to lessen the ear damage.

"Dudee the review online, and the pay is sooo goo-"

"I HAVE BRUISES WHERE I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW BRUISES COULD FORM"

Only twice in his life had Scott ever encountered the tone of rage stiles' voice now sported across the phone. Once was in 4th grade when Scott ripped the head off Stiles favorite wolf teddy and the second time was in 9th grade when some jackass from an opposing lacrosse team decided to insult Stiles' mother- needless to say the team just stood back and watched Stiles flip.

So in conclusion, Scott was fucked for having basically forced Stiles to take a summer job in Hale's Coffee House because Scott was taking summer school and knew stiles would end up committing a murder or something just to keep himself entertained.

"But the review said" Scott muttered back weakly.

"WHATS WORSE IS MY DAD THINKS I'M HAVING SOME KIND OF KINKY ROUGH SEX AND DECIDED TO GIVE ME THE TALK, THAT'S RIGHT, **THE TALK**, SCOTT, THE FRIGGIN TALK"

"I'm sorry! I just thought, you needed something to keep you busy whilst I was in school all day"

"TOMORROW VISIT STILES AT WORK AND STICK AROUND TO SAVE HIM FROM HARD SURFACES OR ELSE DEATH" Stiles managed to snap over the phone.

"you're going BACK?!"

The line went dead, all Scott could do was stand there completely dumbfounded. He thought back over the scene he had seen the morning trying to find something, anything, a possible motive for stiles to be returning to a place of work where he was basically thrown around. A certain puppy-like individual kept creeping back into his head.

For what he could see, Scott had two choices:

1. Getting more involved with the psychopaths running the HCH (Hales Coffee House) wasn't worth it- terminate friendship with stiles.

**Or**

2. Risk death, possible maiming and being touched inappropriately by creepy fahionista dude, by visiting Stiles tomorrow, all for the sake of friendship

"Well shitt" Scott mumbles to himself as he lays in bad "friendship better come with free coffee"


	2. The Beginning of the End

"I thought you were never coming here again?" were the words first words Scott heard as he walked up to the bar. He looked up to meet the amused eyes that belonged to the smug looking face of a particularly attractive barista.

_Good point_, Scott thought_, How on earth did I end up here again?_ He sighed, _he knew exactly how he ended up standing in front of this barista in a particularly tight pair of jeans, and, just as many of the uncomfortable situations in his life have started: it all began with Stiles. _

* * *

6:30AM that day:

Scott is sitting on the steps leading to the glass door belonging to Hale's Coffee House. No one's inside, as the place doesn't open until 8am, so why was he here? Stiles had called around 6am, demanding he "be in front of the coffee house in half an hour to discuss 'preventing more injury to Stiles' plans or god help him he would tear his ass apart"

Scott can feel himself drifting off, eyes slowly closing just as –BAM- a lanky body slams into his, knocking them both of the stairs onto the pavement.

"Seriously Stiles? You can't even walk properly so why are we meeting at this time in the morning?" Scott whined picking himself and his best friend off the ground.

"I can walk properly" Stile objected, he then proceeded to stumble up the stairs only to trip up on the last one slamming face first into the glass door. Scott raised a judgmental eyebrow . Stiles then fished around in his pocket managing to drop the bag he was carrying, which slowly THUMP rolled down THUMP the stairs THUMP step by step THUMP until it hit the bottom. Scott raised the other eyebrow at the now slightly battered bag and looked back up at the fool now stabbing the door with a key…..violently.

"where is the blasted keyhole… dammit!"

* * *

6:37AM that day:

"AHA" Stiles exclaimed as he opened the door and strode in proudly. Scott picked up the forgotten bag and followed. Stiles turned back to Scott beaming, until he saw the raised eyebrows and smirking mouth.

"Dude what?"

"Nothing, just glad you can still open a door with ease at 6:30 in the morning." Scott chuckled and sat himself down at the closest table, whilst Stiles gave him his best "Bitch please I'd like to see you do better" face then proceeded to trip and roll into the backroom.

Scott took his time to look around the shop, it was actually really homey; the wooden chairs with carved leaf designs, the red cushioned booths, the warm wallpaper and paintings of forests on the walls. Really homey, that was until Scott ran his fingers across the table finding holes and cuts where knives and forks had been thrown into the table; until he noticed the cabinets containing only smashed porcelain; until he noticed the 40 year old sitting in the corner booth smiling at him. It looked like a war zo-….WAIT. Scott slowly turned his head back to the corner booth only to find it empty. He shook his head at his own cowardice and wiped the sweat of his forehead.

"Stiles hurry u-AHH" Scott yelped as he turned back to find the stranger sitting opposite him.

"Yellow really doesn't suit your skin tone, I think more of a burgundy or blood orange would be better" The carefully groomed man pointed out as he passed his eyes up and down Scott.

Scott began to breathe really heavily. _Blood, did he just say blood orange. Shit I am going to die, I am going to die in this shitty coffee house._

The other man just chuckled softly, as he got up and began towards the back room.

"I'm not going to kill you just because you are wearing yellow" He winked at Scott, causing the younger boy's jaw to drop and grip to tighten on the table he was clutching onto in preparation to, I don't know throw it or something if the guy got any closer.

"Wear something mustard coloured though and I might consider it" and with that he disappeared into the back room, the shadow of his figure being quickly replaced by an energetic Stiles now dressed in his uniform. Stiles stopped in his tracks.

"woah dude, calm down this place isn't as bad as it looks. Plus no one is here, no life threatening situations present, it's not like you are going to be harassed by some stranger at any moment. Dude! Stop clutching the table so tightly you are going to break it! Dudeeeee! Derek will kill me, literally kill me!"

Scott only began to ease up after stiles had picked up the bag Scott had brought in and full on whacked him around the head with it. He opened his mouth and:

"Apparently yellow's not my colour"

Understanding washed over stiles face "ahh so you met peter"

"Peter?"

"yeah about six foot something, combed back hair, painfully clean face, always wears one of those scarf ma thingies?"

"Peter" Scott nodded in response. "Does he work here, and if so dude I don't even care what your reason for staying is you are quitting today because he is the one who is going to kill you"

"Chill, he doesn't work here" Stiles grinned at his friends paranoia.

"Then what the hell is he doing here before opening hours?" The grin was wiped right off Stile's face, his eyes narrowed. "In fact dude," Scott continued "how the hell are we in here before opening hours?"

Stiles sighed "this may come as a surprise, but there are certain advantages to spending 6 hours pressed against a wall by the man in charge, more specifically key stealing advantages that I just might have taken advantage of"

Scott rolled his eyes, great so they were officially trespassing on a wall slamming god's property, the same wall slamming god who hired freaking knive throwing, dry humping psychopaths. Scott could only see this ending one way- the kind of way where the police would have trouble making their way through all the blood in an attempt to decipher which body parts belonged to him or Stiles.

"Which reminds me, since you will now visit me every day at work" Stiles bats his eyelashes, "I have devised a plan which will save me from any further ' Sex should be had in a safe, trust filled environment' talks from my dad"

"What kind of plan?" Scott asks carefully.

Stiles just grinned.

* * *

7:10AM that day.

"Stiles-" Scott started.

"See I read somewhere that people who are aggressive are just covering up for the lack of _love_ in their love life" Stiles rushed over his words, reaching over the table grabbing Scott by the shoulders

"I'm not seducing your boss" Scott deadpanned.

"See so the easy solution to this whole situation is to turn Derek's wall slamming into wall_ slamming_" Stiles wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm not seducing your boss" Scott deadpanned again.

Stiles continued ignoring Scotts unamused face: "and I thought who better to do that than my puppy-eyed, smoking best friend, who is going to do this because he fucked up by recommending the worst job possible"

"I'm not seducing your Boss!" Scott threw his arms up in the air. "Just Quit!"

Stiles tightened his grip on Scotts shoulders, "Scott I can't quit, because he told me to quit."

"So take the dudes advice and quit?!"

"I can't do that, because then his stupidly inflated head will only get bigger and I don't want to lose to some arrogant son of a-"

"OKAY!okay" Scott interrupted as Stiles began to look off into the distance on the edge of beginning the speech about his family pride, not being able to face his dad, etc. "I will" he sighed heavily "_seduce _your boss." Stiles whooped. "**BUT**. If I don't get his phone number by the end of the day then plan is off"

"Deal!" Stiles shouted quickly, **too **quickly. "Okay just come by the coffee house after school wearing these" he handed Scott the bag.

"Stiles-" Scott started. Stiles bounced off his chair and dragged Scott to the front door.

"Just do it!" he insisted as he pushed Scott out of the shop and slammed the door closed behind him.

* * *

And that is how Scott ended up here: 3PM the same day:

"I thought you were never coming here again?" were the words first words Scott heard as he walked up to the bar. He looked up to meet the amused eyes that belonged to the smug looking face of a particularly attractive barista.

When Scott failed to answer the guy just prodded further. "Why did you come back?"

_Great question hot underwear model guy_, Scott thought, _he was here to: help out his idioticly stubborn best friend, who -might he add- was no where in sight; to seduce his best friends boss –also nowhere in sight-; to get some hopefully free coffee; oh and also _"to get slammed against walls".

Scott went to open his mouth to reply only realizing that his mouth was already open and the room around him had gone dead silent. He looked up to meet the surprised expression of the barista.

"In those pants honey, you're looking for more than a wall slamming" sounded a familiarly creepy voice from somewhere behind him.

Scott closed his eyes, _Great._ _Now he is "local pervert Scott MCcall", who turns up to coffee houses in ridiculously tight jeans and would like 1 venti serving of wall slamming please and yes I will have that with cream. _


	3. Coffe Cups and Phone Numbers

It was 3:05pm_, yes Scott knows exactly what minute his life became a cascade of extremely embarrassing events,_ and Hales Coffee House was as silent as the dead. In one corner booth Peter Hale is smiling like the creepy asshole he is and not so subtlety staring at Scotts ass. The blonde and her muscular partner are mid make out on the floor looking between Peter, Scott's ass and the wall with utter confusion and slight arousal (_? He doesn't even have the time to try to figure out where that look is going to lead him_). Then there are the uncomfortable customers who all look like they are trying to drown themselves in their coffee. Scott eyes darted around the rest of the café and yup, of course the "_perfect for families" _café would serve mums and their children, more specifically: offended looking mothers covering the ears of their unsuspecting young kids, because yea Scott had just announced that he came to get slammed against a wall and it seems like everybody has interpreted that as him wanting to get straight up publicly fucked against a wall. _Stiles is dead. Seriously people, he isn't going to start stripping and splaying himself against the wall!_

So to sum it all up, Scott is standing at the bar completely red faced, shifting side to side because he is pretty sure one of his balls has died from lack of oxygen. Everyone is staring at him as he debates whether bashing his head on the counter continuously or lunging for something pointy over the counter and jabbing it into himself will kill him faster.

"Afraid we are all out of wall slamming today". Are the words that come from the smirking barista, one eye brow raised, that pierce the silence. Scott groaned, he doesn't know whether it was from utter embarrassment or the fact that his atrociously tight trousers were cutting off blood to his…_Parts. _

"But I can offer you one of our delectable seasonal specials" the golden haired boy begins as he plows into a 5 minuet ramble about how each of the seasonal specials contain different coffee beans. By the time he finishes describing a certain type of cinnamon coated bean that goes into "summer refresher" the noise level has returned to normal, and Scott has managed to peel his eyes away from the floor and his face has faded to a light pink. Scott lifts his head and chances a look at the face that may or may not have appeared in his thoughts yesterday night, and this morning in the shower, and on his way-

Scott pulls his mind out of the gutter in time to face a smirking barista bent over the counter inches away from his own face. _Bet that's a damn good view from behind, _Scott begins to think before he mentally beats the crap out of himself practically dragging his mind out of the fricking gutter it seems to live in. _Shit he is getting red again._

"But if you're really desperate for some wall slamming I can probably whip some up for you" the barista whispered, then winked and snapped his entire body back behind the till chuckling lightly.

"So what will it be?"

Scott prides himself on the fact that he managed to keep his jaw from dropping to the ground and somehow answers coherently.

"eerrrrrrr….Summer refresher, Venti please"

The barista picks up a cup, "Who should I call out for when it's ready?"

"Scott" he says as he watches the barista furiously scribble away on the cup.

"Isaac" the barista flashes him a grin and another wink. _Why hello there more blushing._

"huh?"

"Isaac, my name" repeates the bari- Isaac carefully, _well at least if nothing else goes according to Stiles' plan I now have a name to screa-_ Scott considers smashing his head against the counter.

"So this will take me like 5 mi-" SMASH.

Stiles bursts through the back doors dragging an extremely sour looking Derek and before any one can get a word in he blurts out:

"ISAAC, ERICA, BOYD, PETER,Y ES ESPECIALLY YOU CREEP, THERE IS AN EMERGENCY IN THE BACK , GO, GO. Derek man the counter" And just as quickly as he appeared he disappears dragging everyone but Derek and the customers who seem oddly undisturbed, _but his wall slamming line was such the commotion and this isn't, what the hell?_

30 seconds of confused silence from Scott as Derek picks himself off the floor and drags himself to the counter. Stiles then reappears gives him two thumbs up from the door, only confusing Scott further. His best friend only rolls his eyes, points at Derek and Scott then proceeds to obscenely hump the air. _Oh, _it clicks, _right the plan. Seduce Derek, save best friend. Got it, never gonna work but here goes. _Stiles disappears and Scott turns around to face a scowling Derek and a very quite room. _Then _it dawns on him. Stiles has just left him and Derek not so subtly alone. Together. And alone. (most the customers have left by now, Scott considers signing the ones that are still here up for some kind of therapy.) The situation could not get more awkward. _Shit, what does he says now? Err my best friend only obviously left us alone not because I am here to seduce you in any manner or form, no seriously these tight jeans are really comfortable, but because I am nervous about ordering coffee? Stiles is just being weird? There probably really is an emergency? Or does he just play it dumb: what's that all about? I have no idea why stiles could have possibly left me here with you, oh almighty greek god, alone. Fuck._

"Hi" Scott blurts out to prevent himself from screaming. After all Stiles is his best friend and yes the bruises did pull a couple of heartstrings and yes he did force Stiles to take this job in the first place, so the least he could do was give this whole seduction thing a shot.

"Hi" replies Derek scowling at the counter.

….

"hi" _Sometimes he really thinks Stiles expects to much out of his social skills._

Derek looks up at him scowling further, _if that was even humanely possible the guys eyebrows are probably building muscle from all that strain,_"you said that already"

"right…"

No, Scott was wrong. Apparently the situation could get more awkward.

_Isn't he supposed to ask what I ordered or something?_, Scott pondered waiting for Derek to say something. The silence just continued to stretch out. Derek continued to scowl into the distance. _Wow,_ Scott thinks, _I can't believe I ever thought this guy was some kind of god, Jesus Christ that scowl could kill. He actually looks a little bit like a serial killer. Oh wow, that's a disturbing thought. _Scott leans back a little bit from the counter.

"Are you going to order something, or just stand there looking dopey all day?" Derek finally huffs out.

_Finally_, "Already did, a venti summer refresher."

"that'll be three dollars fifty" _Guess friendship doesn't come with free coffee._

"here, tha-"

"Yea okay, go sit somewhere" Derek cuts him off, scowls a little more, grabs the cup Isaac left and begins to make coffee.

There is a tiny portion of Scott that really feels bad for Stiles as he can clearly see from here that Derek has no interest in him or his ridiculously tight pants and that this "genius" plan is going to fail. Hey he will buy Stiles some bruise cream to make for it or something. But that is only tiny part of him. The other massive part is doing fucking somersaults because, HELL YEA! No need to seduce grumpy boss guy, because despite being ridiculously attractive the dude had anger issues or something, Scott could practically see the smoke rising out of his head. And hey! Scott is a cheerful guy. Scowly and Smiley just don't mix.

When Derek points and him, scowling (still? Really? What has crawled up this guys ass and died?) and growls "you" Scott practically jumps out of his chair replying, "the names Scott and thank you." Does a twirl, although he will deny this to his dying day, and strides out of the coffee shop leaving a scowling Derek behind.

The first thing he does is text stiles:

To Stiles:

NO NUMBER, PLANS OFF!

* * *

2 hours later Stiles bursts into Scotts room.

"NO WAY DUDE! The McCall puppy eyes are irresistible"

"I guess not" Scott replies cheerfully, sporting a smug grin, as he gets up from the desk he has been working at (yes working, because apparently summer school comes with summer homework) and plops down on the bed.

"No dude you don't understand" Stiles says as he begins to pace the room "your puppy eyes emit some kind of aphrodisiac-they are not irresistible by chance, they are irresistible by science." He paces more furiously, "SCIENCE." He yells throwing his arms up in the air.

Scott, still grinning, just shrugs. "Maybe Derek just doesn't see wall slamming potential in me. I mean these trousers you chose out for me- Which reminds me Stiles we are going to be having a talk about what your plans involve because I am pretty sure I am one ball do- Stiles?"

Stiles has completely frozen in the middle of the room, jaw hanging open, eyes wide, looking at something on Scotts desk.

"Stiles? STILES? Are you even listening bro, my balls" Scott begins to whine.

"Scott?"

"What"

"Is that the cup you drank coffe from?"

"uh-yea dude, it's a coffee cup. Stop trying to distract from my genit-" Scott crosses his arms and huffs a little at Stiles.

"I mean" Stiles interrupts raising his voice, "is that the cup that Derek gave you?"

"yes" Scott says extremely slowly, "obviously because you dragged everyone else of the premises leaving me in at least one of the top 5 most awkward situations of my entir-"

Stiles lets out the loudest whoop in the history of whoops. So loud Scott has the urge to go apologize to the neighbors. But before he can move he is tackled to the bed by Stiles shoving the coffee cup into his face.

"HE GAVE YOU HIS NUMBER" Stiles practically squealed.

_What?_

Scott eyes came into focus on the small scribbled phone number written beside his name.

_No, this is not happening._

"how?" is all he could manage.

"SCIENCE" whooped Stiles. "FUCKING PUPPY EYED, APHRODISIACL SCIENCE" and with that Stiles jumped off the bed, did a victory dance and exited the room.

Scott was left staring at the ceiling eyes wide. _How? What? Why? No, no, no._

Stiles popped his head back in the room, "Plan is back in action! Come round the coffee house tomorrow around four to activate phase two"

"How?" is all Scott could manage.

"oh and Scott ol' buddy ol' pal."

Scott turned his head towards Stiles general direction.

"You need to text him in order for phase two to work" this time Stiles slams the door as he walks out. Scott listens to the footsteps fade and the chant of " no more bruises on this back" quieten until he was left in his room in silence.

"How?" he questions the ceiling.

"How?" he questions the coffee cup with the number scrawled on it.

His phone buzzed. Text from stiles: "_text him"._

His phone buzzed. Text from stiles: "_now"._

_Bzzzzzt "do it"_

_Bzzzzzzzt "you promised"_

_Bzzzzzzzzt "do I need to send you a picture of my bruised back"_

_Bzzzzzzzt "Scott"_

"HOW?" Scott practically screamed at his phone.

Scott is positive he blacked out, because five minutes later he is sitting, phone in hand, having just clicked send on a text to -newly added contact- Derek. _What is happening?_

**To Derek,**

**Hi Scott here**

He barely has any time to register anything before the phone buzzes and:

**From Derek,**

**Oh hi there I'm glad u got my number, was worried I wrote it too small.**

Scott considers himself a pretty 'in control of his own body' type of guy. So when he has clicked send on the next text without, obviously having run it past any type of self preservation part or "what the hell are you doing" part of his brain he debates whether a knife or saw would be quicker at cutting off his treacherous hand.

**To Derek,**

**Yea def glad I saw it.**

_NO. he was not glad he saw it. He was the opposite to glad. He is texting someone he strongly suspects is a serial killer. No, he is not just texting- he is flirting. He is flirting with a guy he is pretty sure has the whole "charming smile, and t-shirt ripping biceps" thing going on, but then you get 'friendly' and BAM! Knife through the guts, intestines spilling out and the last thing you see is Derek scowling face as he laughs over your dead body._

Okay, so maybe Scott was freaking out a bit. Because when he thought about it he only really had 2 options:

Quickly text back saying that he is not interested and that he's sorry before this can get out of hand.

Or

gets out of hand.

Using his brain, for what could be considered possibly the first time today- _because why the hell did he agree to Stiles' plan anyway-_ he goes with option 1. He only types as far as "hey, look-" before the phone buzzes.

**From Derek,**

**Btw ur ass looked good in those jeans ;**)

Scott stood up. Threw the coffee cup in his other hand across the room. Slammed the phone down on the bedside table. Face palmed. Face palmed again. Walked over to the open window. Looked up at the sky. And let out a throat tearing scream:

"HOW?"

Option 2 it is then.


End file.
